


Energon Touched

by nameless980



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless980/pseuds/nameless980
Summary: (Basically an amalgamation of multiple continuities-primarily Prime, G1, and Cybertron, with an SI thrown in. Began about 6 years ago as a consecutive series of a daydreams, now being edited and shuffled about for story purposes.) When a necklace purchased from a thrift store gives a southern hood rat super powers, he eventually finds himself caught up in a war between sentient robotic aliens that hide in plain sight by turning into vehicles, with the implications changing both his world, and their war.





	Energon Touched

You know, I’ve been told that since I’ve taken up writing again, I should write about my past. Well, I hadn’t considered it seriously before- not in the least because of the CIA, though that played no small part in it, but then. . . then I realized something. I always thought of the Cybertronian War- or, as those of us who were involved when it was simple, the Evolved Wars, as just my story, but they never were. I realized that it wasn’t just my life- it wasn’t just my story. It was Cliffjumper’s, although he died long before I met him. It was Riff’s. It was Sideline’s. It was Francesca’s. It was Silas’ and Starscream’s and Lugnut’s and Cyclonus’. It was everyone’s who gave their life, their souls, their _all_ , in all the chaos, on our sides. Really, it’s just me and Rex left on Earth to tell the stories, and even though he’s six years my junior we’re both getting up in the years. Someone needs to keep their memories alive. And since we’re going to die soon probably, one of us has to be the one to give those memories to someone else- and let’s be honest, Rex ain’t the type.

So, yeah. I’ll write this out. All I ask in return is that you keep the stories alive. Keep their memories alive, and hopefully mine and Rex's, when our own times come. Don’t dishonor the sacrifices made. Oh, yeah, one other thing to ask. Keep fighting. Comic book cliché or not, one truth that I’ve found is that if you have the power to make a difference, that gives you the responsibility to do so. Evil and tyranny come in many forms, and they’re as endless and as timeless as the galaxy itself.

 

To begin with, I should probably begin with a description of myself. When this all started, I was something in between chubby and muscular, standing at around five foot four. Despite my mixed heritage, I’ve always been accused of being white- a remnant of my mother being albino. That accusation usually holds for about five seconds until they look at my hair, nappy and curly as all hell, despite its blond coloring, before they realize that I got some black in me too. Since it always got tangled up and generally became a mess very quickly, I tended to keep it close-shaven, my buzzcut was really almost bald. Jeans and a tee shirt were my usual go to outfit, the shirt color changing depending on how badly I needed to do laundry

I was fourteen when it all started, really. I was just a kid, been bouncing from family member to family member while mom was in the hospital. I was young, angry, had a chip on my shoulder the size of New Jersey, and had no outlet for my many, many problems as I moved in with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. I was supposed to start high school at the place where my aunt worked as a speech therapist in about three months, but as it stood it was the beginning of summer break and I wanted to try to make the most of it, and the new scenery. In other words, a standard hot mess. Now, there's one thing about my aunt that will likely never change, a fact that turned my life to the extraordinary. That woman, Primus bless her soul, adored thrift store shopping. She once joked that she was the thrift store queen of Athens, the town in which we lived.

So I often got dragged along with her, especially when I first moved in when we were looking to furnish my room. Now, keep in mind, I grew up in a thrift store family. Aunt Jackie just liked findiing good stuff for dirt cheap, but me and mom were broke. Whenever we needed clothes, shoes, or to replace furniture, thift stores were our first stop by fact of necessity, and so we’d gotten pretty adept at finding some good stuff.That said, when I had money I genuinely enjoyed going to see what goodies I could find. When I was broke, it sucked quite a bit, obviously- I’d never seen how anyone could consider window shopping anything other than self-inflicted torture. Like yeah, it’s nice to look, but at the same time it just makes my wishlist so much longer than it needs to be!

But, this time I actually had a bit of coin on me, courtesy of my recent birthday combined with a grandmother who liked to spoil me when she could. I had wanted a stereo for my room, but couldn’t find one that I liked. Disgruntled but accepting that this tended to happen when thrift store shopping, I idled over to another section of the store. It just so happened, that there was a jewelry display there. Now, normally I’m not much of a jewelry kind of guy. As I got older I pierced my ears repeatedly, but at fourteen I didn’t even do that. I would occasionally wear a bracelet, or a watch, but that was pretty much it. But this. . . this necklace caught my eye. Now, back then, I was obsessed with blue and black, and this necklace was a very pretty blue. Shiny as all hell, too. But most importantly, was that I felt a shock when it touched me. Not an electric shock, so much as a pure adrenaline rush, for a split second, making me stop for a moment. I glanced at it. It wasn’t gaudy- a thin chain threaded with the same blue throughout the many links, by the feel of it the same material as the stone, which was about the size of my thumb’s fingernail.

“Curiouser and Curiouser,” as the saying goes, my eyebrows raising. Eyes narrowing after a moment, I took it again, feeling the same shocking rush before it subsided. Now, I didn’t believe in the supernatural so much at that point. Yet, I did know that this necklace wasn’t normal either, by any stretch of the imagination, and I’d always had an interest in the abnormal since I was a kid. So, I glanced at the price, then blinked. Holy fuck, for such a beautifully crafted piece, it sure was cheap- even my pocket money could afford it, and I would be alright to get a game or something too! So enthusiastic was I that I didn’t even bother asking my aunt- not that it mattered, as she didn’t care about how I spent my money unless it was media or food- nothing illegal, nothing overpriced, not too much candy, and when it came to media she liked to monitor the content as any good parent would. Although in her case, she’d have her husband monitor it since he was likely to know more.

So, my new goods paid for, I happily put it on my neck, noting that I began to feel a faint adrenaline rush just from putting it on, the stone resting a centimeter or two beneath my collarbone. Now, I enjoyed finding a good bargain as much as the next hood rat, but not enough for that, which even then I figured meant that the necklace was odd. I wanted to figure out how odd, but had no clue how to start or where. And when I did, well. . . how was I supposed to know it’d get me involved in not one, but two different wars?


End file.
